


Miss-impressions

by ferix79



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Misgendering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian mistakes Lavellan for a woman and turns him down when the elf tries to flirt with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss-impressions

**Author's Note:**

> From a kink meme prompt  
> I like to imagine my mage!Lavellan doesn’t wear the normal light armor because the armor looks like shit. Where are my beautiful flowing robes and cowls? 
> 
> Anyway, part of the reason Dorian doesn’t realize he’s a guy is because he’s all covered in these draping, elegant robes that he thinks are meant for a woman, and his face is almost always partially, if not fully hidden from view. And his voice is higher pitched/more breathy than the ingame voices. Plus he has pretty black hair down to his waist, so. 
> 
> Lavellan is really timid and shit because this is early game. Also this is told from Dorian’s POV so that’s why the Inquisitor is always referred to as ‘she’. 
> 
> (quick note that Lavellan is NOT trans in this, not that there’s anything wrong with trans inquisitor. He’s a boy, Dorian just made a mistake and assumed too much.)

When Dorian first met the herald he took a quick glance at her small frame and the long braid trailing out of her cowl and decided that she was a woman. She was not the kind of person he expected, honestly, but then again she didn’t ask for the mark or the responsibility, so he shouldn’t doubt her.

She was a shadow weaving in and out of the pillars in the chantry as they fought, her long robes swishing every which way as she raised stalagmites of ice to pierce the shades and demons. Her companions, a dwarf with a crossbow and a monstrous qunari, were more than eager smash and shatter the demons after she froze them solid.

Dorian vanquished the last shade with a ball of fire, and then a crackle of green energy shot over his head. The herald held her hand up to the rift and it snapped shut with an explosion of light and sound. He smiled at the power and glanced around the chantry. No trace of the rift remained. 

“Fascinating. How does that work exactly?” he questioned, but the herald did not respond. She just stared at him—or he assumed she was staring at him, because the top half of her face was covered by her cowl. “You don’t even know, do you? Just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes.” She flinched and stepped back at his words. Whoops, he had embarrassed her. 

“W-who’re you?” she stumbled over her words, face still largely covered by her cowl. 

Ah, how rude of him. He introduced himself, but she didn’t give a name, so he just settled on ‘herald’. Her friends were quicker to speak—and judge—than she was. 

“Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst.” The qunari warned. Lovely. Well, at least he was pretty. 

He explained the whole Alexius situation to the three. The herald remained silent nearly the whole conversation, but Dorian could tell that she was intently listening. She wasn’t scared, he thought, perhaps just very contemplative.

Her companions, Varric and Iron Bull, he found out, did plenty of talking for her. They all expressed shock at the theory of time magic; Iron Bull decried the notion as impossible, but Dorian persisted. He _needed_ their help. Quite desperately. 

When he had said all he could, he bid them goodbye and told the herald to keep in contact with him. He could only hope, now.

\---

After a gloriously successful invasion of Redcliffe’s castle, Dorian stood face to face with Alexius. This was it, this was the moment that would turn the man around—he could do it, Dorian could fix this. 

Felix revealed his true intentions to his father and joined their effort to persuade the power-hungry magister. Alexius rambled about the elder one and how he could save Felix—it seemed that he would not stand to hear their words. 

And of course he _had_ to pull out that damned amulet. Dorian whipped out his staff in a knee-jerk reaction, shooting a bolt of energy at his former patron, and it all happened so fast. 

He was sucked into the rift and dumped out in some sort of…sewer? He scrambled for purchase on the slippery stone floor and was then greeted with two soldiers charging right at him. Beside him he felt a surge of cold and the crackle of magic, and then thanked the Maker that he was not alone. The two mages bested the soldiers easily enough and afterwards Dorian turned to the herald to thank her.

The herald whipped her staff back onto the harness on her back and then took a deep, shaky breath before doubling over and gasping. Her hair had fallen out of its braid in the chaos, long, silky strands cascaded out of her cowl and almost dipped into the water below them as she dry heaved once, twice. After that she seemed to catch her breath, placing her shaking hands on her knees as Dorian stood awkwardly by, unsure of what to do. After another moment she stood up straight again, combing her fingers through her hair and beginning to rebraid it. 

Dorian slowly stepped up to the herald and placed a hand on her shoulder as to not startle her. He leaned down to try and get a better look at her face. 

“Are you alright? All in one piece, hm?” It was then he saw the tattoos on her face and her striking purple eyes for the first time. She was quick to jerk away from the touch. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little…shaken.” Her voice cracked and Dorian felt bad. Being sucked into a rift with a complete stranger was horrifying and he could attest to that, but Dorian was rubbish at consoling people, much less in this kind of situation. “We should move on.”

Dorian nodded, and began wondering aloud where they could be. After a few minutes of talking—to himself, because the herald did not seem interested in responding—he concluded that they were still in Redcliffe castle, just in a different time. 

She considered this for a moment and then nodded in agreement. Without a word she turned for the stairs nearby, picking up the soaking bottoms of her robes like a lady in a long gown would. Dorian chuckled at her actions as he followed, sweeping his eyes over the room one last time before following her. 

He fell into step behind the herald, following her up the stairs and into another small room before ascending more stairs. He could have walked at her side, but he did not want to make her uncomfortable. She had clearly expressed that she wasn’t one for talking, so Dorian did not try to push her. Plus, despite her earlier episode the herald seemed quite curious and eager to explore the decrepit castle. 

Along their trek he couldn’t help but wonder more about the herald as he followed behind her. He wondered why she chose to wear the long robes that trailed on the ground, easily getting dirty and tattered, and why she chose to obscure her face from most. She was quite the mystery to him, but he didn’t mind. At least it could never be said that he did not keep interesting company, he mused. 

As they walked he noticed more about her. Her robes obscured most of her figure, but little by little they revealed her slim silhouette whenever she turned or bent down or stopped suddenly. He noticed the slight sway of her hips as she walked—narrow, small hips, his were likely wider than hers were, but nonetheless feminine. Between her petite figure and shy personality, Dorian thought she was actually quite adorable. Not his type, _obviously_ , but still cute. It was a pity they had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances.

Finding the herald’s companions imprisoned and overrun by red lyrium, though, was not cute. Nor was finding Leliana tortured and still fighting. 

The whole situation was very sobering and, after some encouragement from Leliana, Dorian kept his mouth shut for most of the journey. The herald seemed fine with that, as she did not add anything to the conversation.

The team weaved their way through the castle and Alexius’ nightmarish world, and then bested the magister in battle. Then the demons came. 

“You have as much time as I have arrows.”

The herald was frozen as her companions turned to go out the door and give their lives for her. Frozen with what, Dorian could only guess. Fear, anger, sadness would probably be his top picks. He wanted to console her, tell her it would never really happen, but he would be of more use to her if he saved her life. 

His hands trembled with anxiety as he cast the spell as quickly as he could. He really shouldn’t be the one doing this—he left Alexius before their research evolved into this mess—but at that moment he was the only one who could. It worked, thank the Maker it worked, and he yanked the herald into the rift after him. 

\---

The amulet and rift worked just as they should have, so Dorian and the herald were dumped back out into their own time. Dorian greeted Alexius with a smart remark before the man was taken away by Inquisition officers. 

Well, at least he and the herald had made it through time together and in one piece. 

If they would stay that way after meeting King Alistair, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

\---

Throughout the whole ordeal Dorian really thought that the herald wasn’t all that fond of him, or anyone in general. She barely spoke, never made eye contact. But, as he would soon learn, the herald was an elf full of surprises. 

He peeked in to the chantry back in Haven to find the herald being hounded by her advisors. He broke up the encounter with a sarcastic remark, earning a glare from Cassandra. 

“I would like to see the breach up close sometime, if you don’t mind,” he said before the five of them turned to go to the war room. 

“You’re staying?” Cassandra drawled, more of a statement than a question. 

“The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.” He said with a smirk. 

Dorian was not expecting the herald to add to their exchange. 

“There’s no one I would rather be stranded in time with, future or present.” She lifted her head from under her cowl just enough to catch his eye. For the first time, she deliberately made eye contact with him, rather than the other way round, and smiled. 

He was a bit taken aback. An endearing way to look at the situation, if anything. He chuckled and stepped outside, leaving the herald and her advisors to plan their next move. 

\---

Not half an hour later, Dorian caught the now familiar swirl of robes out of the corner of his eye. He had been in Haven’s apothecary searching for a healing potion to take the edge off of his aching muscles. Travelling a year into the future and finding a doomed world was quite stressful, actually.

Naturally, he kicked off the conversation.

“So, the Inquisition supports free mages? I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised, though. You are a mage yourself.”

She didn’t respond, wrung her hands. She’s nervous? He continued, filling the silence.

“I do wonder if you’ve considered what this support of yours will do. For mages in general, I mean. The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You’ve given southern mages license to...well, be like mages back home.”

“If that means they’re anything like you, I approve.” She replied almost immediately, as if she hadn’t meant to let the words slip, but did. 

He barked out a laugh. “There aren’t many mages back home like me.” 

She smiled, too, and giggled. It was nice to share a laugh and break some of the tension, but Dorian knew he couldn’t let this continue. His smile faded. 

“Herald, this Inquisition business is all well and good, but I can’t, in good conscious, lead you on.” Her smile dropped, too. She was surprised by his sudden change in attitude, “While your apparently high opinion of me is flattering, I’m just not interested in women, if you catch my drift.”

She paused for a moment, cocked her head to the side, and then yanked the hood of her robes down.

She—no, _he_ , definitely, clear as day, he—was scowling at Dorian something fierce. 

“Who—what do you think I am?” the herald shouted, blush blossoming across his pale face—Maker, you could cut diamonds on those cheekbones, Dorian thought. 

Dorian said “I” no less than six times and then nervously laughed before regaining his composure.

“I’m-I sincerely apologize, herald. I…did not mean any offense.” He blushed, too. How did he not notice?

The herald appeared to have accepted the apology, given the lack of ice that could have been coating Dorian’s face at the moment. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, considering the Tevinter mage. He cocked his head to the side again, maybe this time deciding if he should send Dorian away or not? Though he didn’t wish it on himself, Dorian would understand. What a foolish mistake to make, he chided himself. Finally, the herald replied.

“I… will forgive you. I realize that this misunderstanding likely wouldn’t have happened if I had properly introduced myself when we met.” The herald said, “You can call me Lavellan, for now. Maybe you’ll learn my first name sometime, if you’re still interested?” He finished with a smirk, poking his nose up into the air and turning away. 

Watching the herald walk down the snowy path, now enlightened as he was, Dorian still thought that the man’s flowing robes disguised his slim, but definitely male, figure all too well. 

He ought to take Lavellan up on his offer sometime, he thought. He still felt guilty for the mistake—really, he did—but he decided that, despite their rocky start, he was most _definitely_ still interested.

**Author's Note:**

> So in truth, Lavellan is just kind of mousy when he meets people and he got even more nervous when he sees this other mage and “oh no he’s hot!”. And then they’re dumped into the future together and that’s a bit startling, so. 
> 
> Hope you liked it, OP! Thanks for the great prompt. I had fun writing this.


End file.
